Journey to Cretarious
by Pottslande
Summary: It is almost 100 years after the Shee have left Albia, made a truce with the Banshee Empire, and founded their new home in Cretarious. Now, an outcropping of a genetic mutation among several different creatures, known at the Tea Tossing gene, is causing creatures to go haywire. The Shee must now deal with this new problem.


Time is a funny thing.

Time can grow and demolish cities. Time can move mountains, generate planets, even birth new life.

Time can even change what was thought to always stay the same.

That's the point of time, isn't it? Constant change, proving that nothing is immutable.

Most don't like change, though. They have something set in place, their own wheels set in a perfect motion, and they don't like it when something comes loose, even when that loose wheel produces a better machine than before.

Even when that loose wheel seeks to create its own machine.

I remember the first day they discovered I was a loose wheel, as a young Nornling. I remember the fear, the isolation, and the feeling that I was very much alone.

It turns out, that was far from the truth. But I wouldn't know. I wouldn't know that entire committees were being formed because of norns, ettins and grendels just like me.

All I knew was that I was somehow damaged.

The great gray building of the Opoculus Tower loomed overhead as the elder Shee squinted up at it, the smaller sun blinking slightly behind it.

"Hrm." The Shee stated, as if this scene left him deep in thought. He cracked his long, furred neck and his gaze fell upon the nearby Warp station. Here, Shee from the various colony ships and planets would drift in and out of Sphericus. The old Shee smiled slightly and turned his head back toward the towering doors of the Tower. He sighed, prepared for another long and stressful discussion.

He stepped up and grasped the brass knocker of the door in his hands, knocking three times. Presently, the door opened to reveal a short, furry Servling, with long arm specifically genetically generated to open doors and a friendly face specifically coded to invite a pleasant air.

"Good evening sir, your appointment is in five minutes time in the main hall. And may we say how honored we are by your generous presence."

"Thank you." The old Shee said, nodding his head to the creature. He remembered with the Servlings had been cooked up in some local lab by a fellow Shee who wanted to welcome his fellows to parties.

The old Shee walked in, his gait still strong and his back still straight despite his obvious age. Other Shee, younger trainees working for their scientific government and older Shee that had, much like himself, been here since Sphericus was first founded. The Shee took a deep breath and smiled, wondering at all that had happened in these many years, wondering how he managed to find them and survive at all.

And then his eyes fell upon the door to the main hall, and his smile quickly vanished to give way to a bored frown. From what he could see of the hall, it was filled with spectators and opinionators. He sighed, shook his head, and walked over towards the door.

As soon as he entered, many of the faces turned to look at him. One young female Shee approached him.

"Good afternoon sir, allow me to show you to your seat."

"I can find it fine on my own, thank you." The Shee said, with a firm politeness. He mentally chuckled. Old age had soured him slightly.

He took his seat and scanned the room. The spectators were sitting, waiting for the show to start. He looked to his right and quickly looked away, heart beating. The Banshee representative had come today. He shook himself and vowed to avoid looking toward that section.

Sooner than he was hoping for, he heard the gravel of the moderator, indicating the start of the discussion. Instantly, all voices were silenced, as if suddenly muted. The moderator, a middle aged Shee, stood up.

"This afternoon at 1:00 marks the third day of discussions on the Tray Tossing Creatures. We will begin with the question last posed by the discussion group, which is 'what action must be take in order to deal with this issue'. You may begin."

The moderator stood, and immediately a portly Shee jumped up.

"We must humanely euthanize them!" he said. Others in the room politely clapped in appreciation.

"Yes, I agree, and I believe most of our panel does." Said another Shee. "I honestly don't understand why we have to discuss this. We've missed tea once already, I don't anticipate doing so again."

The old Shee stood up, straightening himself. "I've already made my opinion clear to the panel."

"Naturally, you have." The portly Shee grumbled.

"I merely think we must not be too hasty. I understand it is within our natures to do so, but for an issue as important as I feel this is I think we need to go beyond our base selves. We need to think of the ramifications of what is taking place in the homes and laboratories of Shees everywhere, in the very genetic code of the creatures we have created."

"With all due respect to my esteemed colleague, I feel that it is within his own nature to differ with the rest of his own race." Said another Shee cooley. "And may I also remind him that this is not his desired area of expertise."

"As a Shee, it is and will always be my area of expertise. And as one who spent many years adrift surrounded by norns, ettins, and grendels, studying their behavior patterns instead of using them as servants, I would like to think my voice still holds value in this conversation."

"Perhaps my fellow would like to remember the original purpose we have generated these creatures for!" a third Shee piped in. "We created the norns, ettins and grendels for their specific purposes. They are dumb pets, and good servants, and should aspire to be nothing more."

"Once again, I feel our short sightedness precedes us." The old Shee patted his brow. He was never prepared for these sorts of meetings. At times he felt it had been much easier when his race had ostracized him, leaving him alone to tinker. To be both a respected member of society while still dogged by his own difference was nothing short of stressful. "They, just like us, are creatures. Creatures capable of evolving. Even with our own mindsets we really should have expected this."

"Expected what? Expected them to mutiny? And now that they are, just because it was inevitable as you claim, does that mean we shouldn't deal with the problem?"

"You talk about them as if their new minds and new genes are a problem. I see them as a breakthrough, the proof of our own race. Shee history is founded on accidents, and we have accidentally created a race capable of self determination, of will. Why would we want to quash this?"

"Because what if they take US over?" the portly Shee demanded, rising again. "You won't be seeing them as such breakthroughs then when they're making you carry the trays and not giving you your own tea!"

This debate raged on and on in much the same way. It seemed that the entire room was fighting against the single old Shee. The way these debates worked required universal agreement before a decision could be made, and he seemed to be the only odd rock against the tide of decision. He wouldn't be too surprised if they found a way to keep him away from the debate tomorrow, so they could finalize their decision, but he had to keep fighting. He couldn't let this happen.

Finally, 3:00 rolled by, and the moderator called for a tea break after an insistence from several members. The old Shee sat back in his seat, too glum to even take the cup offered by one of the obedient norns wandering through the seats.

"No thank you." He said, shaking his head. The small norn, looking to be of Civet decent, looked at him in shock and slight sadness as he stood up and walked outside.

He was alone in the hall, and he grabbed his hair with both hands, prepared to start his life as a bald Shee.

"They won't listen, they just won't listen!" he grumbled.

"Having a fun time?"

The Shee stopped, letting his hair fall from his hands. He turned to see the Banshee representative, an imposing older female, standing behind him. He shuddered slightly and looked downward, those red eyes were disturbing to look into long.

"You haven't said much." He said. In fact, she hadn't said a word at all. "Why are you here?"

"I'm as welcome to these discussion as any Shee." She said smoothly. "You always act as if we're still battling thousands of miles over this planet."

"This isn't helping. You are not helping." He insisted, turning away and rubbing his eyes.

"I wasn't trying to help." The Banshee growled, though without much aggression. "I'm simply telling you want you need to do."

"What I need to do? What I NEED to do?" the Shee turned and looked straight at her, losing any fear. "You do not tell me what I need to do. I have a duty to my community, to the future of my race, and to what I study, and I am NOT going to have some monster telling me what it is that I NEED to do. If that's all you came here for, you can simply bugger off!"

"Somebody didn't get their tea." The Banshee woman snarked. The Shee walked to the other side of the room, fuming. There was a few minutes of silence.

"Do you know why I picked your transmission up when your ship came through?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Because I was sending to you, it's basic protocol." Said the Shee, scoffing.

"Banshee don't follow basic protocol. You Shee have always been brought down by your rules of politeness. We could have easily blasted your ridiculous ship out of the air."

"The Capillata is not ridiculous." He grumbled.

"I decided to let your transmission go through out of curiosity." She said. "As one of many Banshee who had been studying the Shee's movements for many years, it's fascinating to find a member who doesn't play by the same rules. All the Shee were going together in the same ship, sharing cookies and genetics recipes with each other, and here comes an awkward ship trailing after them with a single Shee, and Shee who chose to be alone."

"I didn't choose to be alone." The Shee insisted. "They left without me."

"Because you chose to stay underground to understand what they could not." She said. "You pioneered Warp technology, and were ridiculed, and now look at what your race uses for travel to this day. You are a mind above the rest, Lone Shee. And you must not let them kill the Tray Tossers."

"Why are the Banshee interested in what the Shee do with the Tray Tossers? Banshees don't even keep our creatures, you make automatons."

"Because just as you, we see the future." She said. She approached the old Shee. "We see not simply time, but space. And we know that the Tray Tossers are the start of a new race, a new people of influence out in space. For centuries we have been searching for a brother out among the stars, and now we have created our own right here. They are the start of a new age, and you cannot let them destroy this."

"So what should I do?" the Shee asked, turning. The Banshee woman was so close to him, he could feel this great disturbing power from her, nearly overwhelming him. She smirked.

"Send them home."

The session resumed. The Shee took his seat again and glanced down to see that an orange cup filled with tea was set on his desk. He glared at the pompus portly Shee. This subtle attack had most likely been his doing.

The moderator resumed the debate, and immediately a Shee stood up prepared to defend the majority's view. The old Shee raised his hand, and silence fell about the room.

He stood up, and spoke.

"I am ready to issue what I think would be a good compromise."

The room was silent. Some Shee were on edge, waiting for his pronouncment. Others seemed annoyed.

"I would like to humbly propose an alternative to euthanasia for the Tray Tossing creatures. I would like to suggest….Project Crea."


End file.
